


The Red Velvet Inn

by SuperPrincessPea



Series: Jeffrey Dean Morgan Rare Characters [2]
Category: Solace (2015), The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Freeform, Multi, New Flame, Reader Insert, Smut, Threesome, Tumblr Challenge, old flame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperPrincessPea/pseuds/SuperPrincessPea
Summary: Written for the Jeffrey Dean Morgan Rare Character Challenge.What happens at the Red Velvet Inn stays at the Red Velvet Inn.(Joe Merriweather, You + Fox Mulder)





	

_Cockroaches._ Of course the bureau would foot the bill for the worst motel this side of the Mississippi. The Red Velvet Inn was everything you might imagine it would be when you first heard the name. Wine stained carpets, vibrating beds and the man sitting behind the front desk looked like the type of person to have have hidden cameras in the smoke alarms. You couldn’t sleep in this room now, even if the wallpaper wasn’t peeling to reveal a scatter of mold, cockroaches were the deal breaker. With a shudder you slip your feet back into your shoes and grab your mac before making a dash through the rain to room 13, unlucky for some. **  
**

Mulder answers, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, his trousers gone to reveal navy boxer shorts and black socks pulled over his shins.

This is the second time you’ve seen each other in years, the first was a few hours ago when you’re eyes had met across a Sheriff’s office filled with officials. Your heart had leapt from your chest as quickly as your grin had beamed across your face. Now, you laugh under your breath at the way his socks are practically touching his knees and as his cheeks turn the very lightest shade of pink, his eyes softening with embarrassment. He’s just the same as you remember.

“My room’s infested,” you say, paving the way for you impromptu arrival. Besides, you’ve seen him with less clothes on, once upon a time. “I thought I might bunk with you… just like the old days.”

“The old days?” Mulder wipes his hand across his face, his laugh nervous. You’d been at the academy together and even if you always had a soft spot for him, you’ve never been more than friends and you’ve never shared anything more than one awkward good luck kiss before you flew halfway across the US for your first assignment.

He steps back, clearing the way for you to duck inside his room and shake off your wet hair before you remove your coat. You’re wearing a a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a Knicks tshirt that’s as comfortable as your friendship with Mulder.

“You still have that old thing,” he remembers, bringing forgotten butterflies back to life.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your thumb brushing the worn hem as you begin to wonder if you should say all the things you wanted to say the last time you stood in a room together.  But you choke, words collecting in the back of your throat as you perch on the edge of the bed and say nothing like it really is the old days.

“I was surprised to see you here today,” Mulder says, taking a drink from the bottle of iced tea that’s been idling on his nightstand.

“I moved office a few months ago.” Is the simple answer and the only one he’s going to get. You play with the end of your hair, squeezing the water and letting it drip like ice onto your collarbone before asking, “why are you here?”

Mulder smiles like he’s waiting for the question then he slides his iced tea back onto the table and grabs a brown folder from the bed. You take it when offered and it’s heavy, filled with crumpled papers of different colours, the kind of case file that’s built from passionate investigating and as you thumb through the pages you get the gist of a conspiracy before looking at him with a shrewd eye. You’ve heard rumours but, “what exactly do the Bureau have you doing?”

He kneels down, brushing his glasses off his nose, his smile boyish, “they call it the X files.”

You touch your thumb to the side of his mouth, right where his smile crinkles and you smile too. Mulder is one of the smartest men you’ve ever known and he’d give up a thousand accolades to sift through dusty boxes in the pursuit of truth. You feel something swell in your chest, nostalgia is humming in the air and suddenly the door knocks.

You startle, laughing at yourself while Mulder goes to answer.

“Hey,” the intruder says and with one word you recognise the cigarette and whisky drawl of Joe’s voice right away. “I’m looking for Agent-”

“I’m here,” you interrupt, certain he’s looking for you.

Joe cranes his head over Mulder’s shoulder, his friendly smile fading to something darker, something more possessive when his eyes meet yours.  

“There’s a goddamn cockroach infestation in my room.” Joe says, inviting himself in . “I wanted to make sure you’re okay but there was no answer at your door.”

You know it’s a part truth but cockroaches or not, Joe would have visited your room. These past few months since you started working with him you’d played on the line between friends and colleagues. You hadn’t crossed it yet but resistance was becoming more and more difficult. Joe was a deadly combination of good looks, brains and charm. Just like Mulder except Mulder was the kind of man who had no idea how to use them.

Joe’s eyes eat you up, his hair dripping wet trails down his face while his shirt is soaked through to his skin. In his hand he holds a six pack of beers and all the clues you need to know that Joe was looking for more than just checking up on you.

“I’ll get you something to dry off with,” Mulder suggests, giving you a questioning look before he disappears into his ensuite.  

Joe puts the beers on the dresser and you find yourself saying, “Mulders an old friend.”

“And I’m a new one,” Joe retorts with a quirk of his lips as he pulls out a beer and passes it to you, his eyes narrowing, “you could have come to me.”

You concentrate on unscrewing the cap, buying time and enjoying the way the beers slides bubbles down your throat before you play it cool, “you have cockroaches too.”

“I could have squashed them.”

“We both know that wouldn’t have been a good idea.”

He loosens the top buttons of his shirt, just enough for you to see a glimpse of dark chest hair. “Squashing the bugs or coming to my room?” he asks, like any good cop, determined to get a straight answer.

You’re not going to say it, if you say something then it will be real and working together will be impossible. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know.” He replies, smiling like he does and clinking his beer against yours, “I think what happens at the Red Velvet Inn stays at the Red Velvet Inn.”

You can’t help but smile, even if you try to hide it, Joe has that effect on you and he knows it. In fact you’re grinning from ear to ear when Mulder returns, handing Joe a towel and suggesting “maybe you should ask for another room.”

“They’re all booked up,” Joe insists, not missing a beat, his gaze settling back on you as he runs the towel through his hair, “looks like you have the only room worth staying in, Agent Mulder.”

You feel fresh butterflies dancing excitement in your tummy. Even with Mulder in the room Joe has no problem trying to claim you for himself. You’re flattered, you like the jealous way he looks at Mulder and you like the way Mulder sits beside you, his body pressed to yours when there was room for him to not touch you at all. You lean your weight into him, his skin smells like soap, nothing fancy just clean no frills soap and somehow you can’t get enough of it.

Joe unbuttons the rest of his shirt, letting the fabric slap against the floor before slowly drying off his skin like he’s trying to prove a point. And if he is, then it’s a point well proven. The sight of his tattoos has you transfixed, Mulder’s folder clutched tight in one hand and your bottle of beer in the other. You take a long drink, working up the courage to say, “there’s no space for us all to sleep in here.”

Joe’s eyes never leave you as he grabs a fresh bottle of beer and passes it to Mulder, “then let’s not sleep.”

You swallow hard. Being in this room with these men for the entire night is already making your head swim and you’ve barely even started.

A six pack of beers doesn’t go far between the three of you and neither does the contents of Mulder’s mini bar. You’ve spent hours talking about your best cases, your worst and your weirdest, you haven’t laughed this much in a long time and none of you want it to end. Joe doesn’t even bother putting his shirt back as he runs out in the rain to raid his mini bar. You wish him well, saluting him with the last of your gin and tonic before falling back onto Mulder’s bed, stretching your arms above your head and already feeling pleasantly drunk.

“I’ve missed you,” Mulder says, his voice low as he finds room for his glass on the nightstand.

You roll onto your side, using the crook of your arm as a pillow and admit, “I’ve missed you too. I don’t know why we’ve left it this long.”

Mulder looks like he’s going to say something but he doesn’t. He lies down next to you, his face at a height with yours, his fingers brushing through your hair. The way he’s looking at you is like he’s seeing your for the first time, the way he’s touching you is like he can’t believe you’re really here. You heart begins to thud, dutch courage fuels your words, “why did… why did nothing ever happen between us?”

His hand stops, his movements frozen as his gaze slowly meets yours. There’s no easy answer to your question and as his face edges closer, his lips slightly open, you realise you don’t need one. His kiss is gentle, hesitant, the innocence of friendship sparking into the passion of lovers as you pull each other closer. You love his clean soap smell and the way his hands ghost your skin hardly daring to touch. You’re so lost in the way Mulder’s kissing you that you don’t even hear Joe returning and you don’t know how long he watches before you feel the bed dip, his body pressing along your back.

When you pull yourself from Mulder and turn to see Joe, he doesn’t look shocked or betrayed, his eyes are hooded and his breathing is deep like he’s enjoyed watching you. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his thumb caresses your bottom lip, “you’re beautiful.”

“Joe…” you begin but his lips press against yours and you’re speechless. Joe’s kisses are rougher than Mulder’s, his beard tickles against your chin and his cologne is familiar, you’ve gotten used to it over time but when his body is this close to yours you find yourself drowning in it. His tongue commands you and you don’t push him away or even consider that this could be a terrible idea. Instead, you feel Mulder’s lips, soft against your neck, his hands lightly trailing the curve of your body until you can’t tell where Joe begins and Mulder ends.

You’re overwhelmed, your body shuddering for breath, your skin trembling at the endless touches before you force yourself to pull away. You sit upright, catching your breath and trying to find rational thought when all your body wants to do is sink into mindless abyss. Every nerve ending is calling ‘more, more, more’ like a siren song that threatens to send you floundering.

When you look at them, both lying on the bed, you know that if one of you says the word then this will end and none of you will mention it again. But you bite your lip and none of you say a single thing.

Mulder kneels, his hands gentle as they slide around your waist his puppy dog eyes waiting for permission. You press your lips to his, permission granted for him to scoop your old tshirt over your head just like you’ve imagined him doing many times before.

Your bra is thin black cotton, it molds to the curves of your breasts and when he brushes his thumb to where your nipple peaks against the fabric you gasp and he catches the sound of it with a kiss. This time his lips are more certain, one hand buries in your hair while the other caresses along your spine until he’s easing open your bra clasp. Maybe this isn’t the Mulder you remember, parts of him are still the same but the way he’s kissing you is something different or maybe he just has something to prove, whatever it is you like it and your bra falls away, your breasts free to his touches.

Joe grows impatient, his hands tugs at yours until you fall into his open arms and with a grin he rolls on top of you. He pins your wrists above your head, the heat of his breath curling over your face before his lips begin to trail along your body, his tongue dipping into your navel as his thumbs hook into your pajamas. He slides them down your legs with a hoarse groan, his beard rough as it prickles against your inner thighs.

You can’t breath, your body tenses in anticipation of what Joe is going to do and you can’t stop looking at the way Mulder watches as another man buries his face between your legs. His tongue is soft, firm and you can barely take the feel of it, you find yourself pushing him away but he’s unrelenting, he holds you tight, forcing you to surrender to the tingles that are making you squirm.

Mulder watches with fascination, his erection tenting in his boxers as he slowly unbuttons his shirt. His torso is empty of tattoos but just as lean as Joe’s and when his shirt is sliding to the floor he edges closer to you, pressing his lips against your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple as Joe’s swirls against your clit. You’re body has never felt such heightened sensation, you float on it letting it take you higher and higher as you feel your climax begin to tighten.

“Not yet baby,” Joe growls, falling onto the bed besides you as he kicks away his pants with a smirk. Mulder rolls onto the other side of the bed and with greedy eyes you watch them sliding off their boxers.

These men have visited your fantasies more than once and seeing them both hard and ready to pleasure you has arousal clouding any negative thoughts. When your hands wrap around their lengths you feel powerful, two men submitting to you, two men wanting you. Your hand slides to the base before pumping along the shaft, making them weak, making them moan for you as your body anticipates the feeling of being filled.

Joe is the first to move, he kisses you rough, like he’s trying to assert himself before he bends you over the bed, his fingernails scraping against your thighs, the tip of his cock pushing against your entrance. He pulls your hair back, craning your neck so you’re looking at Mulder as he enters you. His cock stretching you open, his groans of pleasure filling the room as your fists bunch into the bedsheets.

You can hardly think of a single thing as Joe fucks you just like you’ve imagined he would, hard. His cock slides all the way in, burying so you deep you hold your breath as he slams home over and over. His grip doesn’t loosen on your hair, the way he holds you is primal as if he’s letting you all know that tonight will be the only time he’ll share you with another man. Your scalp prickles with the pain of his possession, your body quivers in pleasure and your eyes never leave Mulder, his hand pumping his shaft in a rhythm that matches Joe’s.

You’re drunk with desire, the room is thick with heat, satisfied moans and the slapping of skin makes competition with the rain beating down on the flat room. You have the urge to feel them both, to have them both, you lick your lips, groaning Mulder’s name, urging him closer. He kneels, crawling along the bed until you can take him in your mouth. Joe’s ferocious rhythm stills, your hair slides through his fingers allowing you the control you need to lick along Mulder’s shaft, teasing him until you take the head inside your mouth, sliding him all the way in as Joe’s fingers press against your clit in a way that makes concentrating almost impossible.

Mulder’s hand his tentative as its presses against your head, guiding your rhythm as he moans your name, his breath getting more ragged, his hips jerking like he’s about to finish before Joe pulls you back. His dick slides from your pussy before he throws you down on the bed, looking at you with a tenderness that doesn’t quite belong in the Red Velvet Inn and certainly doesn’t belong in a room filled with sex and empty beer bottles. His hands caress your inner thighs with a featherlight touch and when he enters you he keeps his eyes locked with yours, holding all your attention as he grinds in slow even strokes that leave Mulder resigned to specktator although part of you thinks he prefers the role.

“Come for me baby,” Joe whispers, as you wrap your legs around his waist, tilting your hips to meet his every stroke and letting your body build. Your breath panting, the world fading, your fingernails digging into his shoulders and your climax releasing like a tightened spring that sends your soaring. When your orgasm fades to nothing more than aftershocks, Joe pulls out spilling his release over your belly with a strangled groan before he slumps down beside you.

Mulder nestles onto your other side, his cock softened, his own ending found at some point in your freefall. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his arm while Joe spoons you, his leg hooking over yours and his hands covering your breast like you belong to him. You know you can’t spend the night like this, you know that in the cold light of day none of this will be a good idea but you want to savour it for just a little longer, just long enough for the rain to die down, just long enough for a room filled with cockroaches to seem like a better idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3


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